


a different path

by LiveLaughLovex



Series: A Different Path [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28373625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveLaughLovex/pseuds/LiveLaughLovex
Summary: Skye Coulson and Grant Ward have been partnered together for years, ever since she graduated from the Academy. They both made asses of themselves during that first initial meeting, but their relationship has developed into something built on trust - and the knowledge that they are, at all times, willing to lie, die, and kill for each other.Others see something more between the two partners. Perhaps they see it, too, but they don't consider it important enough to risk the partnership over. Until, one day, maybe they do.
Relationships: Skye | Daisy Johnson/Grant Ward
Series: A Different Path [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/603622
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I first published a version of this four years ago, in late 2016, right after I made my profile on AO3. I stopped watching the show soon after, so it ended up going nowhere. However, while in quarantine earlier this year, I decided to revive the story. I've just rediscovered this on my hard drive, and whilst I'm not entirely sure I'll ever continue this story, I liked it enough to post, anyway. I hope you enjoy.

“ _I think Fury hates me_.”

“Fury does not hate you,” Grant denied patiently, carefully balancing the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he attempted to stir the pot of soup heating on his stove.

“ _He sent me to London, Ward_ ,” his partner reminded him pointedly. “London. _I haven’t seen the sun in six weeks now. I’m dangerously low on Vitamin D, and not a single person in this entire country knows how to make a decent cup of coffee. 55_ million _people live here. How is it possible that_ all _of them lack such a basic life skill?”_

“They’re big fans of tea,” he offered helpfully, grabbing a bowl from a nearby cupboard and ladling himself a serving of the soup he’d just finished.

“ _That’s great for them, but I am_ not _a big fan of tea, and I don’t understand how fifty-five million people can be so obsessed with it that they completely ignore coffee, which is clearly superior._ ”

“Are you trashing the national beverage _while_ you’re walking down the street, Coulson?” he questioned concernedly. “Because that sounds like a great way to start a fight with a literal stranger. Which, by the way, is a bad idea. Don’t do that.”

“ _Don’t worry_ ,” Skye sighed, “ _I’m at my apartment. I’ll be hiding out here until I am forced to reemerge in the morning._ ”

“That sounds… healthy,” he replied dryly, grabbing a spoon from the utensil drawer and a beer from the fridge before settling in on the sofa. “How much longer are you there for?”

“ _I’m scheduled to go home at the end of the week, but who knows if that’ll actually happen, because, like I said, Fury hates me. I_ knew _I shouldn’t have told him I was planning to take the position in North Carolina so early. He’s had all these extra weeks to brew in his anger, and he’s decided to let it out by sending me to places where the sun_ never shines!” Her voice rose as she finished, making her disapproval even more obvious than it had been already.

“Well, you are leaving behind your Director of Communications position to join Morse’s base of operations before it’s even really off the ground,” he pointed out evenly, albeit hesitantly.

“ _He knew I’d be leaving eventually. I told him when I took the position that I didn’t want to keep it forever._ _There’s too much paperwork involved with being the Director of_ Anything _in SHIELD, plus I have to deal with creepy senators and congressmen making sexist remarks on public television. Especially when one of those creepy senators is your brother._ ”

“To be fair, Christian’s always going to be creepy. That’s just his personality.” Grant winced when the bite of soup he’d just taken burned the roof of his mouth.

“ _I guess. Hey, speaking of your weird family…_ ”

“Nice segue there, Coulson,” he muttered sardonically. “Really appreciate it.”

“ _…have you talked to Thomas or Rosalie since you took the job in North Carolina_?”

“Is there a reason I’d need to?”

“ _Well, Thomas is in Raleigh; Rosalie’s in Fayetteville_.”

“How do you know that?” he questioned suspiciously, managing to evade her question for another few moments.

She scoffed incredulously at that, sounding mildly insulted that that was even a question he felt the need to ask. _“I know that because I’m_ me _, Ward. Why are_ you _not answering my question?”_ She huffed when he remained silent. “ _It’s been, what, eighteen years now? They can’t stay angry at you forever, Ward_.”

“Spoken like a girl who comes from a healthy family,” he retorted, standing from the sofa to carry his empty bowl and bottle into the kitchen. “Thomas and Rosalie – they’re completely right to hate me, Skye. What I did…”

“ _What Christian_ forced _you to do_ ,” Skye cut in firmly, “ _is not in any way your fault. Grant, you were a kid. You were a scared_ kid _, and you were just trying to survive. Your mom and dad, they should’ve protected you. They should’ve protected both of you, and they didn’t, so everything that happened back then, it’s…_ ”

“Entirely on them,” Grant finished tiredly, having heard the same speech from her dozens of times over the years. “I know that’s how you feel, Skye, but I highly doubt it’s how they feel…”

“ _Well, it’s how they_ should _feel. Your parents were as psychotic as your brother_ ,” his partner grumbled, as loyal to him as she always was.

“…and they get to feel however they want,” Grant continued on as if she hadn’t interrupted.

_“I’m just saying, maybe look them up before you’re forced to have an awkward reunion at a_ Panthers _game, for God’s sake.”_

“I’ll…take it under advisement,” he promised her, albeit hesitantly.

“ _Alright_ ,” she agreed begrudgingly, obviously not trusting he’d consider her suggestion at all. “ _So, how’re things there? How’s Paris, this time around_?”

“Well, not to brag, but I’ve seen the sun _several_ times in the past six weeks.”

“ _Showoff_ ,” she grumbled playfully. “ _Did you finally get me that tourist picture in front of the Eiffel Tower_?” His silence was apparently all the answer she needed. “ _Grant Ward, I swear_ _to you…_ ”

“I was being chased the only time I was even _near_ the Eiffel Tower during this mission,” he protested. “I didn’t really have time to…”

“ _And I bet you didn’t stop by_ any _of those bakeries I recommended, either_ ,” she huffed.

“Look, Coulson, I know how much you love your pastries…”

“ _I think I should take offense to that_.”

“…but eating baked goods isn’t a good way to spend your time when there are half a dozen people within two square miles that want you dead,” he finished. “And no, you shouldn’t.”

“ _I’m going to stop wasting my Parisian bakery knowledge on you_ ,” she said, heaving a long-suffering sigh. “ _You never listen to my advice, anyway_.”

“Sorry,” he apologized once more.

“ _Whatever_ ,” she huffed good-naturedly. “ _You’re the one who’s missing out, after all_.”

“Yeah, it’s my loss,” he agreed dryly.

“ _You’re damn right it is_.” Before she could continue, someone – Grant presumed it was Tristan Davies, her temporary roommate – asked something of her on the other end of the line. “No _, I don’t want – why would you think I’d want_ anchovies _on my half? Davies, who in their right mind ruins a perfectly good pizza with_ dead fish?”

“Okay,” Grant drawled, smirking, “I think I should let you go deal with that.”

“ _I think so_ ,” she agreed with a sigh. He could practically see her shaking her head. “ _I mean, dead fish. On_ pizza _. Who came_ up _with that_?”

“It’s one of the world’s greatest mysteries,” he replied sagely, not even bothering to hide his amusement.

“ _More like one of the world’s greatest horror stories_ ,” she retorted grimly. “ _I also don’t want_ green olives _! Tristan, what the hell… Grant, I’ve got to let you go. Davies has committed a lot of crimes against pizza tonight. I better not give her an opening to commit any more_.”

“Understandable,” he chuckled, pulling the phone away to glance at the time and then wincing at the numbers staring back at him. “I should be getting to bed, anyway. Early morning,” he offered by way of explanation.

“Right. Sleep well,” she replied. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

“Sure,” he agreed easily. “See you in Raleigh.”

“See you in Raleigh,” she echoed, smiling. “Fly safe.”

“Yeah, you too,” he returned, disconnecting the call and then staring down at the phone for several seconds, an inexplicable smile on his face, before pocketing the device and returning to his late dinner.

0o0

Skye exhaled slowly as she placed the phone back on her end table. “Okay,” she began slowly, meeting her roommate’s gaze pointedly as she spoke. “Do we need to have a talk about what is allowed on pizza and what is not? Because dead fish is definitely _not_. Why would anyone _do_ that to themselves? Better yet, why would anybody do that to a _pizza_?”

“Honestly, I was just trying to get you to pay attention to something other than Ward,” the other woman admitted cheerfully, collapsing onto the sofa next to her and reaching for the remote to change it from whatever renovation show Skye had paused on when the phone had started to ring. “I was starting to think I’d have to knock down a wall before you even glanced up.”

“I think that’s probably an exaggeration,” Skye muttered, nodding her approval when her friend finally settled on an episode of _Law & Order. _

“Maybe,” the other woman allowed with a half-hearted shrug. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s fine,” Skye replied honestly, leaning forward to pick up the bottle of beer she’d set on the coffee table earlier in the evening. “He’s seen the sun recently, and he wanted to make sure I was jealous.”

“I’m really beginning to question if you two have normal human interactions _ever_ ,” Tristan admitted bluntly. 

“Years of friendship, Davies,” Skye pointed out, taking a swig of her beverage before setting it back on the multicolored coaster that’d been part of a set gifted to her when she’d arrived in the United Kingdom. “Changes how people talk to each other.”

“I don’t think it changes it _this_ much, for most people. I think this is more a _you and him_ thing. Now that I think about it, most things are,” she added innocently, flashing a sweet smile when Skye shot her an unimpressed glare. “What? I’m not saying anything.”

“No, but you sure as hell are implying it,” Skye replied, a warning glint in her gaze.

“Okay, if I was going to say something…”

“Tristan…”

“…it’d be to remind you there’s no rule against it,” Tristan finished hurriedly. “Sure, it’s frowned upon…”

“There’s no _written_ rule against it,” Skye interrupted pointedly. “Because Carter knew, and Fury knows, that there are always exceptions to the rule. My parents, for instance, or Clint and Natasha, before they ended things. There are some people who can remain professional with someone they’re involved with.”

“People call Ward a _robot_ ,” Tristan pointed out smugly. “You really want to tell me he’d be anything less than professional with you, no matter what was going on in your personal life at the time?”

“It’s not him I’m worried about,” Skye admitted quietly, all the fight draining from her body as she glanced over at her friend. “I don’t always react the way I should when he gets hurt.”

“Oh, believe me,” Tristan chuckled, standing to answer the door after someone – likely the pizza delivery man – rang the bell, “I’ve heard stories. I know all about your reactions. You do know shoving someone who might have internal bleeding isn’t a smart move, right?”

“I was _mad_ ,” Skye defended herself, taking the box of pizza from the other woman and opening it. She deposited a couple slices on each of the paper plates Tristan had already thought to grab from the kitchen, then handed one over to her fellow agent. “He strayed from the plan…”

“To save your life,” the blonde interrupted helpfully.

“…and nearly got himself killed,” Skye finished. “I was upset, and I acted without thinking. I also apologized multiple times a day for three weeks straight. Why does everyone always seem to leave out _that_ part of the story?”

“Makes it more boring?” Tristan suggested wryly, taking a bite of pizza and then setting the slice back on the plate. “Look, I’m just saying…”

“You’ve been talking about this for almost ten minutes. I don’t think it counts as you _just saying_ anything, at this point.”

“ _I’m just saying_ ,” the other woman carried on pointedly, “that there isn’t anything they can actually _do_ to you. They can’t take your badges, and they can’t split you up. Not just for the relationship thing, at least. If you start shooting at each other to settle disagreements, I bet they’ll have something to say about it, but otherwise, you’re in the clear. And yeah, I’m sure your parents are the exception and not the rule, but… the only reason they were ever split up was because pregnant agents aren’t allowed to do field work. They went back to working together as soon as her maternity leave was over, didn’t they?”

“Yes,” Skye confirmed begrudgingly. “They did.”

“Well, then, maybe you and Ward could work on being another exception. You’ll both have to get your heads out of your asses first, of course, but after that…”

“ _Thank you, Tristan,”_ Skye said loudly, reaching for the remote and flipping to a rom-com she knew the other woman hated with a passion. “As always, your input is appreciated.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” the woman returned cheekily, groaning as she glanced back at the screen and then tilting her head contemplatively. “Nope. You know what? Completely worth it.”

“Glad you think so,” Skye muttered, unable to bite back a smile as she began tucking into her dinner.

Despite her best efforts, Skye couldn’t go to sleep that night without staring up at the ceiling of her bedroom for nearly an hour, considering what Tristan had said at dinner.

She knew she liked Ward. She always had. Even though they’d had a rocky start, they’d become close friends early on in their partnership. She cared about him deeply, loved him even. But she also feared losing him, both to a new partner and a bullet. So, despite the fact that everything Tristan had said was true, she set aside any idea of acting on how she felt.

After all, there were more ways than one to be an exception to the rule. Perhaps she’d be the first agent in SHIELD’s history to pine after her partner, year after year, without trying to get in his bed at some point.

She tried – and failed – to convince herself she’d be satisfied with that, and then, finally, after thoroughly exhausting both her mind and soul, she slipped quickly into a restless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you read this, I _cannot_ stress enough how little I now about police procedure, and I know even less about SHIELD procedure. I watched three full seasons of this show (one, two, and seven), and then parts of three and four. That's it. And the typical casework pretty much stopped after the HYDRA reveal, because then most of their attention focused on taking HYDRA down, so... 
> 
> I hope you enjoy, anyway!

On the day she was due back in the States, Skye rose with the sun, much to her chagrin. Her flight wasn’t scheduled to depart until ten, which meant she had approximately three hours of time on her hands and nothing much to do with it. Everything was squared away with the London field office, and she had been packed and ready to go since she first arrived in England, practically – Tristan had constantly mocked her for treating their flight more like a hotel than the (temporary) home it was meant to be. There really was no reason for her to be up.

She was, though, and no amount of tossing and turning proved enough to put her back to sleep. Instead of continuing to try, she simply tossed aside the blankets with an exasperated sigh and walked down the hall, to the kitchen, where she found Davies already up, sitting at the table with both a file and a bowl of cereal in front of her.

“What’re _you_ doing up?” she muttered grumpily, making her way to the coffee machine after gratefully noting that the other woman had had the forethought to turn it on for her. Nothing in London had lived up to her beloved beverages back home, but she’d sooner suffer through the coffee she brewed herself than willingly go without any source of caffeine for an extended period of time.

Davies didn’t even bother to glance up from her paperwork. “Printed up a file I got sent this morning. It looks like _I’m_ heading to Barcelona for a few days. Should probably brush up on my Spanish beforehand, yeah?” she questioned idly, spooning another bite of cereal into her mouth before finally glancing up at Skye, arching a brow when she caught sight of the other woman’s fully-dressed state. “I’m rather certain the better question is, what are _you_ doing up so early? And in a respectable state of dress, to boot.”

Skye groaned, carrying her mug to the table after snagging a scone from the covered plate next to the sink. “Couldn’t get back to sleep.”

“Nervous about seeing Grant again?” Tristan questioned, sounding far too knowing for Skye’s taste.

“Nervous about handing the keys to Communications over to someone who’s pretty much a complete stranger,” Skye corrected pointedly, taking a bite of pastry and then sipping at her coffee. They’d been kept well in baked goods during her state in London, thanks in large part due to Tristan’s mother, who both lived in the area and ran a small bakery. “I ran a background check on her, and I talked to almost every agent who’s ever worked with her, but… I don’t know. It’s a bit like handing your baby over to a new babysitter, I guess. Except I’m not coming back for the baby.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t compare leaving an extraordinarily stressful job to take another, likely equally stressful job to child abandonment,” Davies advised wisely. She finished up with her cereal, then stood from the table, carrying her dishes over to the sink. “Well, I should get at it, I suppose. I’ve got to go for a run before work, and then shower and change…” Her voice trailed off as she made her way down the hallway, toward her bedroom, to change into athletic gear.

Skye stared after her friend for a moment, then huffed an incredulous laugh as she returned her focus to the food and drink before her, finishing up with her quick breakfast and then staying at the table, quietly thinking on what Tristan had said prior to leaving Skye to her own devices.

As always, being left alone with her thoughts proved to be a dangerous thing. Skye didn’t mind sitting in silence, typically, if it served a purpose. She was, generally, a consummate professional, after all, even if both Barton and her partner would probably scoff at the mere suggestion. She was good at her job, and that job required that she always be aware of both her surroundings and herself. In a professional sense, that awareness was a good thing. It had helped to save her life countless times. In her private life, it was not nearly as beneficial. Dealing with her personal life was already enough of a pain in her ass, all on its own. She really didn’t need to start letting one-off, well-meaning remarks completely change her views. Life was plenty difficult without all that.

Skye shook her head, childishly hoping that might be enough to dispel her wandering thoughts, and then stood hastily from the table, carrying her dishes to the sink to quickly rinse them off and then depositing them in the dishwasher. After that was done, she headed to her own room to take one last look around the space, making sure nothing had accidently been left behind. The space was as barren as it’d been on the day of her arrival, excepting for the two suitcases at the foot of the bed. She fell carelessly atop the unmade bed, staring up at the too-white ceiling with curious eyes. 

She didn’t know what the hell was going on with her, any more than anyone else did. But she did know that, no matter how hard she stared, none of the answers she was looking for would be in the paint on her ceiling. Some questions, she would just have to answer herself.

If her earlier realization had been enough to make her collapse atop the sheets in despair, then that realization was enough to make her head shoot up – so quickly that she hit her head pretty painfully against the headboard – and a muffled curse escape from between her gritted teeth.

“Ugh,” she muttered, running a hand through her pillow-mussed locks. “You need to get your head in the _damned_ game, Coulson.”

She made her flight home, but it was a close thing, and the longer they spent in the air, the more she realized she _really_ hadn’t needed to spend an additional nine hours in complete and total silence, left alone, once again, with those pesky thoughts she really would like _not_ to be having.

-

After a brief layover in D.C., during which she met with Fury and her replacement and answered all the younger woman’s questions she hadn’t covered during their phone calls and virtual meetings, Skye was finally in Raleigh. Grant had beat her there, arriving from France the previous evening, and as such, was waiting for her on the tarmac when her plane touched down.

“Hiya,” she called as she disembarked, preserving what little dignity she had by not dashing across the runway to meet him. She met him halfway instead, and promptly stole his sunglasses right off his face.

He rolled his eyes at the familiar action, but otherwise didn’t react. “Good flight?” he questioned, falling into step beside her as she headed for the base’s main building, just behind him. “Or _flights_ , I guess,” he corrected himself, wrinkling his brow.

She smiled slightly. “Both were good. How was yours?”

“Fine,” he remarked evenly.

Well, that might be true, but she’d had her partner tell her his flight was fine after the pilot had been forced to perform an emergency landing in the middle of the _Potomac_ , so she wasn’t entirely sure he could be taken at his word, when it came to things like that.

She quickly changed the subject. “So. Do I have my tourist photograph this time around?”

“Do I have mine?” he returned pointedly, though his tone was a hint more teasing than her own had been.

She raised a brow in challenge, then fished her phone from the pocket of her jeans, unlocked it, and presented him with a photograph of her in front of Big Ben, and wearing a ridiculously tacky tee, the sort clearly marketed for tourists.

He squinted down at it, looking mildly disgruntled. “Huh. I guess I do.”

“And I don’t,” she returned triumphantly, knocking her cheek against his shoulder with a bright smile as they entered their respective passcodes and walked into the building. “So, I win.”

He scoffed humorously. “Have you _seen_ how ridiculous that shirt is, Coulson? It doesn’t matter which way you spin it, I am _definitely_ the winner here.”

She huffed indignantly, resting her hands on her hips and preparing to playfully scold him, when they were interrupted by someone clearing their throat, obviously amused. They both glanced up to meet the gaze of Bobbi Morse, who was looking between them with a small smirk, obviously enjoying their exchange.

“So, it really _is_ always like this with you two,” she observed, glancing between them with a wry grin.

“Yes,” Skye agreed, at the same time Grant protested, “No.”

The blonde agent coughed to cover a laugh, then nodded seriously as she met Ward’s gaze. “Sure, Agent Ward, whatever you say.” Her tone made it obvious she didn’t believe a single word he’d uttered, but he didn’t have time to call her out on it before she changed the subject. “How about we step into my office, yeah? There’s something I need to discuss with the two of you.”

“Are we already being called into the principal’s office?” Skye questioned jokingly, nodding her thanks to Ward when he held open the door for both her and Bobbi before entering the space himself.

Bobbi cracked a smile at that, but there was something strange about it, something oddly tense. “I’ve… look, I know the two of you literally just put boots on the ground, and that we’re still pretty early in the process of setting up here, but something just came up, and I was hoping I might be able to pull you into it.”

“Sure,” Skye agreed just as Grant nodded, neither of them even hesitating.

Morse huffed an exasperated laugh. “See, I know the two of you are like this, that you always agree to things before thinking them through, but you really… you really should think this one through. This isn’t some simple extraction, or breaking up an arms deal. It isn’t stateside, and it’s going to take some time.” She hesitated. “Look, once I share the details, if you want to take back your ‘yeses,’ there won’t be any judgement at all. I can assign someone else to this, someone who’s been here longer…”

“Bobbi,” Skye cut in, trying very hard not to let her mild annoyance show, “just tell us what you want us to do.”

“Preferably _before_ you try to talk us out of doing it,” Grant tacked on mildly, folding his arms over his chest as he eyed the blonde woman with both irritation and concern.

Morse glanced between them both again, then nodded once, finally acquiescing to their requests. “For the past six weeks, we’ve been monitoring a situation out of Mexico City. An asset of ours within one of the major cartels turned us on to it. At first, we thought it was the same old song and dance, good, old-fashioned arms trafficking. Within the past week, it came to our attention that the cartel’s been getting involved in human trafficking.”

“Human trafficking?” Grant repeated, sounding dangerously calm.

Morse nodded. “Disgusting as that is all on its own, there wasn’t much to stop us from having to hand it over to federal authorities down in Mexico, let them handle it. However, ninety-six hours ago, that same asset provided us with evidence that those human trafficking victims are victims of experimentation, as well.” Her face twisted up in repulsion. “It seems the cartel’s taken to working with a group of scientists, and those scientists are interested in recreating the formulas that enhanced Captain Rogers.”

“So, you need someone to shut them down,” Skye concluded.

Bobbi nodded quickly. “The problem is, the cartel’s got… I mean, they’ve got an army, or at least the equivalent of one, guarding their every move. They don’t deal with people they don’t trust, and they _don’t_ like outsiders. Our original plan was to send Barton and Romanoff up there, put them on some rooftop with a couple of sniper rifles…” She trailed off with a defeated shrug. “But our fear is that the bosses in this cartel, or the scientists, will end up using the girls as human shields.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve seen it,” Skye remarked somberly, glancing over at Ward. She reached out to squeeze his forearm when she noticed how tightly clenched his jaw was. She knew, without asking, just hearing about the operation was making him think of Rosalie. She also knew he would never, in a million years, turn it down, no matter what she had to say about it.

“No,” Bobbi agreed grimly. “It wouldn’t.” She looked between them briefly, then cleared her throat delicately, holding out a file for Skye to take, likely because the look on Grant’s face at the moment suggested it was probably best not to increase his ire, at the moment.

“What are the orders?” Grant asked quietly, staring straight ahead. Skye glanced up from the file to Bobbi’s face as she waited for the response.

The other woman exhaled quietly. “Capture, not kill.” She held up a hand before either of them could protest. “Look, I understand the desire to… these bastards are hurting little girls, in several ways. I _get_ why you want to put a bullet between their eyes. But there’s always someone bigger, with more intel, pulling the strings. The hope is that…”

“We get the scientists, they flip on whoever’s giving the orders,” Grant finished tersely.

“Exactly.” Bobbi glanced between the two of them. “You still want to take this on?”

Grant turned toward Skye, eyebrow arched in question. She closed the file slowly, placed it on the desk in front of her, and then met Bobbi’s eyes. “It looks like we’re going to Mexico.”


End file.
